


I don’t smoke (except for after I’ve held you)

by pleasekalemenow



Series: How can the body die? You tell me everything (Two of Hearts) [2]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Communication, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gunplay, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Miscommunication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Sexual Roleplay, Trauma, canon-atypical communication, except not really, they’re at war and they try to get horny about power dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23523391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasekalemenow/pseuds/pleasekalemenow
Summary: “What’s it like?” Jonny looks back at Brian at the sound of his voice, and finds him leaning forward, forearms on his knees, turning the gun over in his hands and looking at him intensely. Every motion of the gun in his hand makes small scraping sounds, metal on metal. “Not caring about anything.”Ha. Jonny wishes. “It’s damn dandy. You should give it a try sometime.”(Brian, Tim, and Jonny have a much needed conversation and some much needed sex.)—-Title is from “I Don’t Smoke” by Mitski
Relationships: (referenced), Bertie/Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim, Drumbot Brian/Jonny d'Ville, Drumbot Brian/Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim, Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim
Series: How can the body die? You tell me everything (Two of Hearts) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692739
Comments: 30
Kudos: 165
Collections: The Mechanisms After Dark





	I don’t smoke (except for after I’ve held you)

Jonny is tied up in the office of an enemy general, stripped of all his weapons and completely defenseless. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t concern him too much, but two crucial difficulties make his current situation a bit more concerning:

  1. The intricate ropes binding his arms and legs together so tightly and completely he can’t even _see_ anything below his elbows or knees are also tied just as thoroughly to Gunpowder Tim, actually stuck holding _hands_ with the bastard in some cruel irony manufactured by his captor.
  2. His captor is none other than Drumbot Brian. Pilot of the Aurora, and, regrettably, the captain of the 498th company of the Planetary Liberation Front. The company which Jonny and Tim are both serving in.



Brian is currently sitting in a chair across from the two of them, wearing his uniform with the jacket off and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, but even sitting he’s higher up than where they’re sitting on the floor. He’s polishing a gun, not looking at Jonny, so he’s surprised when Brian speaks up.

“Do you have any idea the trouble you’ve caused, d’Ville?”

“Hopefully a lot? Otherwise they’ll say I’m losing my touch.” Brian doesn’t laugh, but Jonny doesn’t expect him to. Tim doesn’t either, though, and he’s about to glare at him for that when he realizes he’s still passed out. Jonny glares at him anyway.

“What’s it like?” Jonny looks back at Brian at the sound of his voice, and finds him leaning forward, forearms on his knees, turning the gun over in his hands and looking at him intensely. Every motion of the gun in his hand makes small scraping sounds, metal on metal. “Not caring about anything.”

Ha. Jonny wishes. “It’s damn dandy. You should give it a try sometime.”

“Is that what you want, Jonny?” Brian’s stopped moving, his gaze ice, his grip on the gun absolute. “Is what you _really_ want for me not to care at all? Because if you want, I can give you a little taste of what I’d do to you if I didn’t care about you. I think it might do you some good.”

Jonny swallows, no breath in his lungs with which to reply.

“Because I think you’ll find that this universe is desolate and lonely when it’s full of people like you.”

He feels the pain of that comment more keenly than if he’d just raised that shiny gun up to his brow and pulled the trigger, so he laughs, because what else can he do? “You know, Brian, not everyone has your _issues_ with loneliness. _Some_ of us are self-sufficient once in a busted moon.”

Brian’s jaw sets at that, and for a moment Jonny is flooded with relief, thinking the pain is about to turn physical, which he at least knows how to deal with, but at that moment he hears a groan from the man he’s tied to and both of them turn their heads towards him.

“Fuck.” Tim flips his hair out of his face, squinting at the two of them for a moment. “...Is this some weird sex thing?”

Brian laughs, but Jonny _knows_ his laugh, and this one is lacking in all mirth. “Would you like for it to be?” He gives Jonny a carefully measured look, and his stomach drops. “It was _supposed_ to be.”

Oh. Shit. Leave it to Jonny to demand degrading foreplay and then take it personally. He should really apologize now, in this lull while Tim tries to decide whether or not he’s into it, but he can’t quite convince his mouth to work, and then Tim speaks up.

“Ah, what the hell. Not like I haven’t fucked the both of you before.” He gives Jonny a vicious smile, full of too many teeth, and Jonny reciprocates on instinct. “Plus, I’ve been wanting to get my _hands_ on d’Ville since we got our boots on the ground.”

“What’s the matter, didn’t get enough earlier?” Jonny foolishly forgets to take into account the fact that Tim’s fingers are intertwined with his own, and he lets out a gasp of pain as Tim digs his fingernails into his palms hard enough to draw blood. In retaliation, he yanks his arms back, making Tim lurch forward, and sinks his teeth into his shoulder, ripping out a pretty chunk of flesh before a gunshot rings in his ears and he nearly drops the meat in his mouth as he cries out in pain because _Brian just shot him in the thigh._

“Whuh the fuh was thah foh?” Jonny protests with his mouth full.

“This is pre _cisely_ the bullshit that landed the two of you in this situation.” Brian gesticulates with the smoking gun between the two of them for emphasis. Jonny glares at him petulantly, chewing the raw Tim in his mouth even though it would be much better cooked. “You know, I only agreed to get involved in all this as a favor to the two of you, and the second I actually start caring about it, you went out of your way to fuck things up? Your _incessant_ bickering would be the death of you if either of you could have the decency to die.” His expression shifts a bit, the underlying emotion guarded but decidedly not pleasant. “God knows everyone else did.”

“It was a suicide mission, Brian, you know that just as well as we do.” Tim rolls his shoulder with a grimace as it regrows. Jonny discreetly spits fabric out of his mouth.

Brian sighs and stands, walking over to them. “It might have been, but it didn’t _have_ to be, since, you know, we did have the slight advantage of _three immortal soldiers_. But maybe I’m just naïve.” 

Jonny stiffens as Brian takes the cigarettes from his front vest pocket, unable to stop him from doing so like this, then watches as he lights up and takes a deep drag inches from his face. He blows out slowly, and Jonny could choke on the scent of mechanical grease and tobacco. Tim _does_ choke, and Jonny remembers that the boy never did care much for smoking. He’s surprised he isn’t immune to the smoke though, frankly. After all, it really wasn’t too long ago that the war they fought in took place in deep tunnels where there was more in the air to choke on than cigarettes. For a moment, Jonny is back there, Tim leaning against him as his body is wracked with coughs, holding up the bloody handkerchief he’s been coughing into for longer than would be possible if he had the decency to die.

_“Take a look, Tim. It’s like clouds in the sky. Why don’t you look for shapes? See here, this looks exactly like Bertie’s dick.”_

Brian’s voice snaps him back into the present, where Tim is glaring at _him_ for some reason even though he’s not the source of the smoke for once.

"There was a time when I might have gotten a bit of release from lighting up like this." Brian takes another slow drag, the tip glowing brighter for a moment. "Now I can't feel anything anymore."

Jonny tries to glare, but there's something about the sight of Brian, smoke pouring from his metal mouth, that makes Jonny's own lips fall open. "Why're you wasting my cigarettes, then?"

Brian smiles sweetly. "Because the one thing I have left to help me take a load off is watching you _squirm."_

With that, Brian puts out the cigarette on Jonny’s lips, gripping his hair in a vice to keep him from pulling away from the pain that makes him gasp.

“What are you going to do to us?” Tim asks. When Jonny looks over at him, his eyes are wide, and there’s a visible tent in his trousers. He always was an eager one. He hasn’t kissed him on the mouth since Bertie died, and when he sees the way he pants, lips parted and glistening, it occurs to him that he wishes that weren’t the case.

“Well,” Brian begins, “You disloyal bloody wankers deserve to be left here to rot as traitors to the cause. Let General Westmoreland deal with you himself, I’m sure he’d reward you _kindly_ for all you’ve done for him from within _my_ ranks. That’s assuming the two of you don’t tear each other to shreds here on his nice hardwoods.”

Tim inhales sharply, and Jonny smirks. “I take it you aren’t going to do that, then?”

“No. I’m going to punish the two of you myself. Figure I deserve it, you know?” Brian flicks the remainders of his cigarette in Jonny’s face, turning towards Tim. “Besides, as the highest ranking officer available, it is my responsibility and my duty to administer disciplinary action to you pitiful fucks.”

Tim glowers at him, but it’s clearly only a front for his arousal. “Why don’t you just leave us here for the enemy to find, then?”

Brian actually laughs at that. “Yes, because the Yankees would be _so_ much kinder.” He steps down on Tim’s cock, _hard_ , and the man cries out in pain. “Would you rather my boot were a clamp delivering ten amps of electricity? Or would you rather your cock be a dog’s first meal in a week?”

Tim whimpers, shaking his head furiously, and Jonny can’t help but feel a pang of arousal at the sight despite himself. Honestly, he deserves whatever Brian has coming. After a moment of leaning on Tim’s cock (although he’s obviously holding back, because there is no _way_ Tim would be this collected if he put literally any real weight behind it), Brian lets up, prompting Tim to heave a sigh of relief. 

“Answer me, Timothy.”

“N-no.”

“No, _what_?” Brian’s heel is poised over his crotch yet again, and Tim answers frantically.

“No, _sir_!”

Brian puts his foot back on the ground. “Good,” he says, pleasant as you please. “Now. I think it’s high time the two of you learn to get along, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” Tim visibly swallows, and his erection is unswayed by the harsh treatment. 

“And you, Jonny dearest?” 

Jonny has to force the words out. “Yes, sir.”

“No.” Brian levels the gun with his forehead, and he feels himself throb. “I want _you_ to address me by my _rank_ , Lieutenant.”

Oh. The conniving bastard. Jonny isn’t desperate enough for this yet.

Then Brian pistol-whips him so hard he feels his cheekbone crack, and that changes things a bit. 

“Yes, _Captain_.”

Brian smiles, caressing his face gently with the still-cooling metal of the gun’s muzzle, and Jonny means to spit blood at him, but in his confusion over the gesture he chokes on it instead. Brian laughs, a bit of the venom gone. “Good boy, Jonny. I knew I could find something salvageable in that rusty shell of a heart.”

If Jonny had more than a rusty shell of a heart to hurt, that would do it, but luckily, he _doesn’t_. “That what you measure goodness by, then? Obedience? At long last, a look into those ineffable ethics of yours.” 

For that, Brian breaks his other cheekbone, but he’s prepared for it this time at least. 

“In war, yes, _Lieutenant_.” There’s a heft behind Brian’s words that tells Jonny he should try to confine the digs to work solely within the confines of whatever this absurd scenario is meant to be. But, you know, he’s still indignant on the hypothetical hurt caused to his nonexistent heart, so he elects to ignore it. Or, he’s about to, but Brian shoves the mouth of his gun into his parted lips, and that shuts him up just fine. 

“Honestly, Tim, you’d think after all this time he’d‘ve learned how to behave himself. Wouldn’t you agree?” Brian turns his body towards Tim, keeping the gun in place. Jonny tries to wriggle away, but the ropes hold firm, and the warning click of a bullet sliding into the chamber persuades him to stay still. 

“I don’t know why you’re surprised, Brian, he’s been a bastard for as long as I’ve known him.”

“Hey,” Brian snaps. “That’s exactly the kind of talk we’re trying to discourage here. If you can’t obey your commanding officer, I’ll have to resort to more _harsh_ measures.”

Tim nods slowly, eyes locked on Jonny’s mouth around the gun. 

“Good. Now.” Brian removes the gun from Jonny’s mouth, which he is an _idiot_ for feeling disappointed about, and sits down. “I’m going to untie the two of you now, and you are going to do exactly what I say or I’m going to kill you both and leave you here for the Yankees to find. I’m sure you’ll find your way back to us in a few centuries. That would probably force you to get along just as well.” Brian pouts slightly, and it’s weirdly cute given the magnitude of the threat he just made. “But I’d really rather we do this the _nice_ way. Don’t you boys agree?”

In unison, the two of them respond:

“Yes, sir!”

“Yes, Captain!”

Brian smiles beatifically. “Brilliant.”

With that, Brian tugs on a loose end of the rope, and the whole thing unravels like magic. It’s not until the pressure is gone that Jonny realizes how comforting it was—not just the pressure itself, but the way it gave him an excuse to stop resisting. He rubs his wrists gingerly. Assuming Brian is only pretending to be mad at him and not actually pissed beyond repair, he might have to work up the courage to ask him to do it again sometime. It’s kinky enough that he could probably write off his interest in it as masochism or something. 

Tim is staring at him. His eyes are blown wide with arousal and another emotion that Jonny decides it’s in his best interests not to identify. Between them, their hands are still linked, and Jonny is beginning to let go when he hears a sharp _tut_ from Brian and freezes. 

“Hey, now. Did I say you could let go of each other?”

Jonny winces. “No, sir.”

Brian gives him a sharp look at the form of address, but Jonny looks at him pleadingly, and his gaze softens a bit. “Jonny, since you just kindly volunteered yourself, why don’t you run your fingers over Tim’s palms? Take your time, really explore the contours. Make a map in your mind, and try to memorize it. You’ve held hands before, but I doubt you’ve _savored it_ properly.”

Jonny pretty much bluescreens the moment Brian tells him to do something that isn’t inherently sexual, and he turns to look at Brian in confusion. He’s smiling at him contentedly, but the gun is very definitely aimed directly at him, so he turns back to Tim, who is still looking quizzically at the Drumbot. His grip on Jonny’s hands is too tight, and Jonny can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s going to talk back.

"Just do what he says, Tim.”

"I’m _doing_ what he says, Jonny."

It’s stupid that _this_ is what makes his hands shake, but he slowly disentwines their hands, pressing his palms flat against Tim’s so he at least has somewhere to start. 

He slowly drags his fingertips down the length of Tim’s fingers (or, what he can; they’re a fair bit longer than his own) towards his palms, resolutely avoiding eye contact as he knows he _has_ to be blushing from the intimacy of it all. He traces his index fingers along the lines running from the bottom middle of his palms up to the spaces between his thumbs and forefingers, then ghosts his thumbs up from his wrists over the places where his thumbs make his palms protrude ever so slightly. The tender touches take his breath away, completely taken aback by the intensity of feeling. Brian speaks up, voice soft but definite. Not sharp enough to break Jonny’s trance. 

“Look into his eyes, Jonny.”

Jonny obliges, and with his guard down, he can see the emotion in Tim’s eyes for what it is: hatred.

“Texas!” he blurts, and immediately Tim pulls his hands back and puts them in the air as if to surrender. His expression has shifted to one of confusion, but Jonny can’t stop seeing the one he was wearing before. He’s so shaken it takes him a moment to realize that _he just used his safeword_. 

He’s _never_ done that. 

“Jonny?” Brian. Fuck, he can’t deal with this right now. He buries his face in his hands, humiliated over having crumbled so quickly. “Jonny.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, still covering his face. 

“You don’t have to apologize, Jonny, just—what’s wrong?” 

“ _Nothing_.”

“Well, clearly not, or you wouldn’t have safeworded.” Even _Tim_ sounds concerned now, and isn’t _that_ just rich. 

“What do you care?” he snaps, dropping his hands so he can glare at him. “You despise me anyhow.”

Tim looks a bit confused at that at first, then angry. “Well, yeah, of _course_ I do.”

“Right, of course, because I’m such a bloody insufferable twat it’s impossible _not_ to hate me—”

“Because of what you said about Bertie, you asshole!”

Jonny knows _exactly_ what he’s talking about, and cool dread pools in the pit of his stomach at the realization that they’re finally going to have to talk about this, but he isn’t giving up just yet. “What are you talking about?”

Tim looks like he would probably lunge at him and claw his eyes out if Brian weren’t here, which is probably fair. He also looks like he might start crying, which Jonny can’t help but be a bit scared by. “You’re kidding.” He looks at Brian. “He’s kidding, right? He has to be.” Brian just lifts his shoulders ever so slightly, giving a faint grimace, and so Tim turns back to face Jonny. “Please. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

Kidding isn’t quite the right word, so he just shrugs and looks down. Tim scoffs loudly. 

“Please, pray tell, Jonny, what exactly was it about Bertie’s death that you found _hilarious_ ? Was it the way he shoved you ahead of him to make sure you got to safety in time? Was it the fact that you let me think for a moment in the darkness that you were _him?_ Was it the fact that he was stupid enough to love you, that I—” His voice breaks, and his nostrils flare out in anger with his next breath. “Or was there some other _hilarious_ detail about his death that you neglected to tell me about?”

Jonny looks at Brian desperately, but he just furrows his eyebrows as if to say, _What are you looking at me for?_ His eyes drop to the gun in Brian’s hands, but unfortunately, the man tracks the movement and unloads the gun before he can lunge for it, giving Jonny a disapproving look. 

When he looks back at Tim, his eyes are actually welling with tears, but more than anything he looks angry. 

No. No, actually, Jonny can’t keep lying to himself: Tim looks _hurt_. 

“I miss him too,” he finally manages. Tim’s brow furrows, so he continues. “It’s easier to just...when you live long enough. Deaths all kind of blur together. So when one of those deaths is distinct, it’s just easier to…” Jonny sticks his thumb up and pantomimes trying to erase something with it. “To just blur it, too.”

It’s not an apology. He _knows_ it’s not. And guessing from Tim’s expression, he knows it too. 

Tim’s voice is quiet. “I trusted you, you know? To tell our story. When I woke up I was so _pissed_ to still be alive, but when I saw you, I thought. Hey. Here’s a friendly face. At least I’m not _alone_.”

Jonny winces. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause. “You know.” Tim’s expression is difficult to pin down. “It’s really exhausting being angry at you when I know over the course of eternity it’s inevitable that I’ll get over it.”

Jonny laughs bitterly at that. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Time only heals some wounds. Others, it just makes them fester.”

“Well, that sounds even _more_ exhausting.” He sets his jaw, then sighs. “Listen. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still pissed about this. But I don’t want to hate you over it, so I’m going to do my part not to let it become that way.” He points at Jonny, who does not feel as relieved as he hoped he would. “You need to make sure you don’t make it worse in the meantime.” He hesitates. “Change that line.”

“Okay,” Jonny murmurs, feeling oddly distant from himself. He’s pretty certain the black hole in the pit of his stomach is the only thing with gravity strong enough to keep him tethered to his body at the moment. Then Brian clears his throat from where he’s sitting, and he flinches as he realizes he’s just been waiting for the other boot to drop. 

“Shall we, uh, maybe try to cuddle a bit? To get in a better headspace? Or should we just call it?”

Tim hesitates, looking first at Jonny then at Brian. “You’ll be involved?” Brian nods. “We can cuddle, then.”

They both look at Jonny, and he honestly just wants to bolt, but then he’d be alone with himself and that would be even worse than this, so he just nods, and before long the three of them are cuddling, Brian laying on his back in the middle, and Tim and Jonny snuggling into him on either side. 

Brian is notably silent, which could be very good or very bad. With Jonny’s luck, it’s probably bad. He grips the fabric of his Brian’s shirt and buries his face in his chest, taking a deep breath of his smell: metal polish, mechanical oil, and a bit of earthy cologne that he still wears even though it doesn’t smell quite the same on metal as it would in skin. He can’t stop thinking about the things they said to each other during “foreplay” or whatever that was. Judging by how tense his hand is in its placement on the small of his back, he would be willing to bet that Brian’s having the same situation. 

Tim breaks the silence. “Okay, I’m sorry, can I say something?” Brian hums his affirmative, and he doesn’t wait for Jonny to respond at all. “It’s clear you two have some shit going on, and I feel like you should have it out now since we already had one actual conversation this evening.” He hesitates. “If you’re fine with whatever the fuck this dynamic is, you do you I guess, but I’m really not interested in being involved with the two of you together until it’s sorted. You could cut the tension in here with a bayonet.”

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence where Jonny refuses to move his face out from where it’s conveniently hidden and Brian doesn’t move or say anything. Then, damn him, the man speaks up. 

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, Jonny, I—I already feel bad about trying to force the two of you to get along earlier when there was something else going on, but.” The low rumble of his voice reverberates in his chest, and Jonny wishes he could just focus on that instead of the words that are coming next. “I do think we need to talk.”

Ordinarily, Jonny would just leave this conversation as a middle finger to himself in the future, but he’s pretty well fucked as it is, so he might as well deal with this while he’s anxious as shit anyway. He turns his face just enough to free his mouth. “Talk, then.”

Brian hesitates for a moment, and Jonny thinks maybe he’s dodged the bullet, but then he feels his arm move from its place in his back up to behind his neck, and he hears a faint _click_. Whatever Brian needs to talk about, the ends couldn’t justify the means. Not exactly comforting. 

After a moment, Brian takes a deep breath. “First of all, it’s shitty and callous that you caused the death of men under my authority when you know I still care about that sort of thing. Also, I love you and it hurts my feelings when you’re mean to me all the time.”

Jonny doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t...that. He stays carefully still, as if that will stop Brian from seeing him. As if anything could stop Brian from seeing him the way no one else could. “Sorry about the...death, um. Sorry. But. You realize you’ve already told me you...that. You’ve said it before.”

“Yes, but it was relevant to the _other_ part of what I said.” His hand settles on Jonny’s shoulder, and he startles at the motion. “I know you can’t...I know it’s hard for you, to say it back, but you just take every opportunity to be cruel and when you do that _knowing_ I love you, it just.” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t have to. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m a terrible person to be in love with, and a terrible person more generally speaking—“

“That’s not—“

“Isn’t it, though?” Jonny pulls away, shrugging off Brian’s attempts to hold him and kneeling, taking the height advantage since he doesn’t have any others. “I mean, I feel like it’s pretty clear to everyone in the room that I’m the problem. You two don’t have any issues with each other. Hell, you were practically getting off together about how horrible I am to be around.” Tim opens his mouth, but Jonny just continues. “I’m sorry there’s nothing to salvage in me, Brian, you were _wrong_ , because if there was ever a good man in me Carmilla tore him out of my chest and hot glued the leftover puzzle pieces together in a way that didn’t fit but she hoped would make a nice picture anyway but it didn’t _work_.”

The two of them sit up as well, now, Brian posturing like he’s going to try to embrace him but he can’t _do_ that because Jonny’s eyes are hot enough as it is and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself from crying if anyone touches him. 

“Jonny-“ Brian starts.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Listen to me. Can I lie to you like this?” Jonny rolls his eyes, but Brian takes his hand and guides it around to the back of his head and makes him feel where the switch is in _Means Justify Ends_. Jonny shakes his head reluctantly. “So you know I’m telling the truth when I say that you aren’t the problem. No one has been communicating, and that’s why we got to this point.”

“You want me to communicate? Fine.” He crosses his arms. “It makes me feel like shit when you reference my heart like it has any bearing on my humanity. And not in a sexy way. In a trauma way.” He means to come off as harsh, but now that he’s said all that out loud he realizes he’s just. Communicated. Dammit. 

Brian’s face falls. “Oh. I’m so sorry, I didn’t…” He sighs. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I didn’tac—“ he gets choked up on his words, and Jonny realizes with a dry pang of humor that he was probably trying to say _I didn’t actually mean it_ but couldn’t get it out because it was a lie. 

“You think I’m a bad person.”

“Yes, but I love you.”

“Neat. Cool. So. You’re definitely just fucked over by your feelings for me, then.”

“You’re being deliberately obtuse, Jonny. Love isn’t a feeling, it’s a decision. And I love you despite your flaws. And I don’t think it’s entirely your fault, either. There really are glimmers of a good person inside you.”

Jonny should have just bolted. “So, you’re in love with pieces of a hypothetical person trapped in the body of the scum of the universe.”

“Oh my _god_ , Jonny, I don’t think I’m a good person, either.”

Jonny actually laughs at that. “What are you talking about? You’re the only good person I’ve ever met.”

“I might try to be, but I really think goodness is measured by actions, not intent.” He sighs. “I just kill a lot of people, you know? And I hurt the people I care about constantly. I do my best, but it’s just not good enough.”

“I think you’re good,” Jonny says thoughtlessly. 

“And I think you’re worthwhile.”

Jonny looks into Brian’s eyes for a long moment for deceit he knows he won’t find. Then he kisses him. 

It might be more accurate to say he throws himself at him and Brian cradles him and guides him into a kiss. It’s slow, Brian exploring deep into his mouth as Jonny hums softly, still trying to fight back tears. It’s a losing battle. 

When he pulls away, he looks at Tim with a question in his eyes and tears on his cheeks. Mercifully, not only does he not comment on the crying, but he leans forward and presses a surprisingly chaste kiss against his lips, although, being Tim, it quickly heats up, and it isn’t until Jonny pulls on Tim’s hair and earns a moan that Brian places a hand on his shoulder and pulls him back to himself. 

“Are you in a good place for this?” Brian asks. Of course he’s worried about him. He’s too _nice_. 

“I am if you two are.”

Tim gives an eager thumbs-up, and Brian kisses him with a laugh, then turns back to Jonny and kisses him too. 

Jonny pulls back, smirking. “Use your _words_ , Brian.”

“If you give me lip like that I’m going to have to put you in your place, you know.”

“Is there another way you’d like me to give you lip?”

Brian laughs again, its usual joyful tone again at last, and pulls him back in. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope it nourished your crops. If you wanna return the favor, please leave a comment and kudos!! Take care of yourself. <3


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